177A/N: This is a sci fi time travel romance story. The two main characters have the same names, general physical appearance and in various ways the 'Bones' personalities of our two favorite 'Bones' actors. However, they are not intended in any way to be the David and Emily.
Disclaimer: I understand Hart Hanson and FOX have ownership rights to all 'Bones' concepts, characters, and dialog. This is intended to be simple Fan Fiction for the enjoyment of the author and any readers.
7PM Friday, July 6, 1837
Suffolk Mill Manufacturing Company
Lowell, Massachusetts
The bell of the south tower rang signaling the end of the workday at the Suffolk Mill. At last, Emily could leave. She glanced around at the moving belts, gears, and pulleys of the huge cotton weaving machine as they slowly ground to a halt. The machines clanging gears and squealing belts had maintained a volume of constant noise that permanently impacted the hearing of many of the workers. The smell of hot oils on metal and the fog of cotton dust fibers rubbed off by the friction of the machines were hanging in the air. Combined with the sweat of people tolling in the mill, the atmosphere was almost unbearable. Repetitive physical labor in tight dangerous working conditions was the environment of the nineteenth century cotton mill. Emily was smart, skillful, quick, and lucky. Most girls had scars from their labors here; some had worse, missing fingers, hands, while others made the ultimate sacrifice for their three dollars a week wages. This was the atmosphere that surrounded her, overwhelmed her, but she thought little about it. It was her normal, her life, twelve to fourteen hours a day, six days a week. She was grateful for this life, this job, the ability to support herself, be independent.
Her only concern was more personal, more direct. She had woke this morning with a headache and the smell and noise of the mill had only aggravated it. A cough dried her throat and painfully irritated her lungs. Chills and fever came and went despite the warmth in the building. Her pale skin and auburn brown hair was covered with sweat and cotton dust. Her legs were weak, her feet sore, and her entire body ached, not just from sickness, though it was a part, but from her fourteen hours on her feet, moving around her assigned station at the machine. Her fingers and hands were calloused and almost raw in places from the constant pulling and pushing of the various mechanics to keep the water powered loom operating at full efficiency. Her hand brushed across her forehead mixing the beads of sweat with the grime of a day's labor as she pushed stray hair from her flushed face. She knew she was sick. She coughed. In her irritation, the few swear words she knew crossed her mind, but she did not speak them for she was a lady.
"Emily!" She stiffened at the sound of the whinny male voice behind her. Jim again, she thought. What is his request of her now?
"Yes, Mr. Williams," she responded while maintaining a level tone as she turned and looked down at the short man who had come up behind her. It was her new overseer. The twenty year old boy, that she had been forced to train to be her boss.
"Where is Jenny?" he asked with his hands on his hips.
Emily quickly turned and caught sight of the small ten year old bobbin girl crawling out from between the machines. "She is over there, coming out from under machine eight … I think she is retrieving a bobbin." Emily turned back to explain to the overseer.
"Humph, well make sure she doesn't miss any. Also, did you finish that, that hum, that thing you were suppose to do before you can leave?" Jim asked, not really sure what it was she had told him was important was called or why it was needed to be done. He was only sure that he was the boss and would make sure she did her job properly.
"Yes, Mr. Williams, I set the brake on the main gear and adjusted the three levers on the main belt." Emily replied with a calm controlled expression knowing she could not response in any other way. She needed this job.
"Good girl, Emily, you know how important it is to the proper operation of the mill." He informed her with a condescending tone as he attempted to stand taller to compensate for the over four inch difference in their height.
"Yes, Mr. Williams." She responded in a level respectful tone thinking she had been doing these operations for more than seven years and was very aware of their importance to the operation of the machine. She watched as he turned and headed over to joke with the other male overseers who were standing idly by the exit.
She grumbled to herself at the unfairness of the situation, sighed and then finished the last of the thread winding at her station at the end of the big weaving machine. Slowly she stretched to her full height to relieve the stiffness in her back and neck. She was much taller than the average girl and was embarrassed by it. Another round of coughing racked her thin, aching body. She briefly closed her eyes and contemplated what she should do about this sickness that was plaguing her. Maybe Mrs. Harris would have one of her special remedies.
"Emily … Emily!" She turned to see her friend and bed mate, Sophie and little Jenny, heading down the narrow aisle between their stations on the machine. They quickly covered the short distance between them. Emily could see the look of concern in Sophie's eyes.
"You still feeling poorly?" Sophie asked, she had noticed at lunch break that Emily's sickness had worsened. Jenny's eyes showed the same concern as they peered up at Emily from the grimy innocent child's face.
"Yes." Emily sighed. "Little different, unfortunately…"
Sophie reached up and placed her hand on Emily's forehead. "You feel warm, and look flushed. Let's get you home, get you something to eat. Maybe then you will feel better? I hope Mrs. Harris has something good planned for supper."
"I don't think I'm very hungry," Emily said. "My stomach does not feel well. I may go to bed early." She finished, while coughing again.
Sophie gave Emily a disapproving look, "But, you need to eat something … I will see if Mrs. Harris can mix up a remedy for your sickness."
"Yes, I was thinking that myself." Emily responded. As they headed for the stairs she felt a little light headed, steadied herself and with a little moral support from Sophie they continued in that direction. At the top of the stairs a few of the other girls commented on Emily's appearance and expressed their concern for her health. Emily and Sophie blended in with dozens of the other female operatives, all in dresses of similar high neck collars, long sleeves, and heavy floor length skirts with multilayered petticoats. The crowd of girls descended the narrow winding wooden stairs to the street below. Many of them commented about how wonderful it was to be out in the early evening summer sun. The long summer days offered them an hour or more of daylight after work. Most of the year the shorter hours of daylight required the girls to arrive at work before dawn and not leave until after dark. They streamed out of the large brick building and split into various groups as they headed for the many boardinghouses supported by the mill owners.
7PM Friday, July 6, 2012
Suffolk Mill Condos
Lowell, Massachusetts
David paused; he had reviewed his presentation one last time. He confirmed in his mind that all the final client requested updates were included. During the five o'clock con-call, the client's LA office just needed a few changes. He had been surprised that the clients' Singapore and Shanghai regional offices had no changes. After a few more clicks of his mouse, he leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin. He chuckled contently before glancing at the clock at the corner of the screen, 7:01 PM, later than he planned. However, the project was now complete with these final changes and ready for presentation to the client's project coordinator Monday. It would be a free weekend from the project. He was pleased that it was progressing ahead of schedule. This customer would be happy too. Last year was a good first year for his counseling business, but this year, he was on track to more than double his revenue. Things were going very well professionally. He was satisfied with that aspect of his life. He grinned to himself and chuckled in a self congratulatory manner.
He hit save on the presentation then decided to check Facebook. Angela had written on his wall before she left her office that the usual group was going to their usual place to hang out tonight; 'The Usual'. He smirked to himself then mused. Hum, will Hannah show? Now the other side of his life came into focus, the personal side, the not so successful half. He'd moved on, well … Yes, he had, and she had, he was sure she had moved on given the boy toy she dragged along with her last week. Fine, he was glad it was over, if she wasn't the marrying kind … fine. He was an adult he could deal. He did just fine last week; even talked to the guy. He chuckled to himself that his jaw still hurt some from clenching his teeth, but he thought he controlled himself rather well.
Pushing the chair away from his desk, he slowly stood up flexing and stretching his muscles. After sitting all afternoon things had tighten up a bit. His regular exercise regiment kept things in shape and the current discomfort was minor and of little concern. He glanced out the window and noticed that the sun was still relatively high above the horizon. It was a perfect end to a beautiful midsummer New England day. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and swiped over to his weather widget. Eighty-six degrees now, then slowly dropping into the high seventies till after midnight. Great, he'd tell Angela they'd take his car, given the top down weather. Plus, he knew she'd probably go home with Jack. He pocketed his phone, rolled his chair into his desk and headed toward the kitchen. He could hear the faint sound of running water upstairs and realized Angela must be home and already in the shower. He must have really been focused on the con- call or zoned in on his presentation not to hear her come in.
"Whatever," he mumbled and shrugged as he entered the kitchen. Ah, the leftovers, he smiled reaching into the fridge and grabbing yesterday's pork roast casserole. Eyeballing the contents of the bowl, he determined there was enough remaining to split between the two of them. Next, he mentally calculated and then executed the precisely predetermined sixty-five thirty-five percentage split of the meal, basically, three scoops for him and the remainder in the bowl for her. Grabbing a dinner plate and loading it with his scientifically calculated portion of the leftovers, he popped it into the microwave. He hesitated, turned back to the cabinet and secured the plastic cover to put over the gourmet meal waiting in the microwave. He smiled to himself. Mom would be happy he remembered not to mess up the microwave with food splatters, even if he was the one to clean it. He laughed, even after more than ten years away from home, Mom's influence still stuck for some things. It's just too bad Angela didn't retain that bit of training as well.
He grabbed the TV remote and started surfing. A couple of political talking heads were rambling on about the conventions on FOX. He frowned, switched to CNN to find a report about the Olympics. Three minutes later, the microwave called in its usual fashion. He got his dinner; hesitated, smirked, put the plastic cover back in the microwave. Hopefully, if he left it there Angela would use it when she heated her share of dinner. He sat down at the bar and started to eat.
The Olympic report was over. Now it was a report from Afghanistan about a roadside bomb killing three American soldiers. Fuck, three more dead, shit. He gritted his teeth and his hand went to the chain and dog tags around his neck for a few seconds. In that moment his mind went back to Fallujah … Iraq … the terror, the smoke, the smell of death; over a month of the worst hell of his life. He caught himself as he thought of friends, buddies lost, took a calming breath, closed his eyes for a second, and sighed deeply. He forced himself to relax. It would never be gone, the experience. It would always be a part of him.
He mindlessly surfed around stopping here and there getting bits and pieces of programs. Dinner over, he killed the TV, rinsed the dishes and popped them into the dishwasher and headed upstairs. At the top of the stairs, he turned and knocked on Angela's bedroom door … waited … knocked again … waited, listened … a third time harder still.
Eventually, she responded with an impatient, "What?"
"Don't forget to eat." he said. "The leftovers are in the fridge."
"Yeah, yeah…" she said dismissively.
David sighed at the edge to her tone. She could be such a pain sometimes … how Jack dealt with it, he had no idea. He shook his head as he headed for his room to get ready for the night out.